


What Warms the Heart

by That_Familiar_Feeling



Series: Quizsnacks [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I named all the rebels, Matt is Healing, Meat Pie Recipe, Quizsnacks, Voltron Cookbook Zine, Zine: Quizsnacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21925168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/That_Familiar_Feeling/pseuds/That_Familiar_Feeling
Summary: With the zine's completion now announced I get to upload my pieces for Quizsnacks!! Our Voltron Cookbook that got finished just a little bit ago with deliveries.Working on the zine was an absolute pleasure, and I'm SUPER FREAKING HAPPY that I get whole book of recipes to try, and to have been given an opportunity to put not one but TWO pieces into a book!!!So my second piece!! Matt and Olia Meat and Ale Pie recipe (not included) ft. Matt and how he first joins the rebels, and how food can translate feelings.
Relationships: Matt Holt & Rebels
Series: Quizsnacks [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1579036
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	What Warms the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Olia: We know her to be the canine alien  
> Kith: The android alien we see later with Matt  
> Aladi: The space pirate alien with the scar and head-wrap  
> Khaete: Blue-eyed mask, long ears  
> Te-osh: We know Tosh is the one who died, with the big ear fluffs

Space...is cold.

Distant reaches, light years from the nearest living outpost, hidden behind a volatile magnetic field of asteroids and poisonous gas - are very cold.

A half destroyed moon, the last scraps of a dead solar system-- once a civilization if the ruins are anything to go by-- a place so far out in the universe that it is loud, the silence.

It’s cold.

They gave him clothes. It was the first thing handed to him when he was bundled out of that prison system. They’re thick and feel like canvas under his shaking hands. But even with the layers he shakes all over.

There are in total ten people in the crowded cruise ship. And even then he is cold.

He’s used to aliens by now. The thick skins of varying shades, the scales and horns and metal bearings between fur and even rock. Long and thick and thin and lithe. He isn’t used to being the only one of his kind. With thin skin and “light fur” and a body too weak to stand the gravity wells. With lungs too sensitive to go without a breathing apparatus.

There is no use is speaking anyways.

They cannot understand him. And he cannot understand them.

In the prison camp, the Galra had a built in translation system. On all of their ships it seemed to be a default piece of tech. But here, in a tiny, cramped, shipping-turned-stealth vessel - the noises flow over him like a sound-box. Clicks, growls, and whirrs.

And a bark.

There is one of the outfitted crew, the ones who saved the prisoners, that stands at the head of the ship. Covered in the armor with the same green scarf as the other four crew members. They look like a earth’s coyote, but bipedal and for all intents and purposes - anthropomorphized. When the crew begins to bicker, loud sounds and clipped testy tones- the canine alien turns and barks out something curt and neat and they all fall in line.

This is the one that throws a blanket over his shoulders when they land. He’s unable to join the others who step outside to gather in a small camp. He isn’t sure how they can breathe or what technology the crew has that creates a hospitable atmo around the squatting, but the moment he steps outside his lungs cramp and ache and he is rushed back into the ship.

He shivers and buries his fists into the blanket, giving them a nod in thanks. The refugees are outside around the fire and in the singular tent; there are four of them besides himself. Inside, the crew bustles away at the consoles and in boxes getting resources together.

He’s willing to sleep, to lose his discomforts to a safe slumber for the first time in months- but then the leader is saying something and quickly the one with white and gold metal armor crouches before him and offers a gloved hand.

It looks like a simple ear piece. One that hooks around the ear and settles snugly into the cochlea.

He hesitates, but with a shaking hand accepts the piece of tech and fits it behind the shaggy mess of his hair.

It takes a second for the translator to connect. He winces when the neural connectors meet and the ship seems to go through a hush as the piece scans for languages.

There are five pairs of expectant eyes, eyes and faceplates, watching him and he tugs the blanket tighter and pulls the oxygen mask away for a moment.

“Thank you.”

Two simple words and the crew seems to deflate, relieved and sympathetic. The leader smiles at him, and on earth, the peel of lip and flash of fangs would have sent him reeling. But lately, he’s seen worse than a smile.

“There is nothing to thank,” she says and he is suddenly aware of the age she carries, “We’re doing what we can, what we should. You and them..” she looks to the closed bay door, “No one deserves that.”

He nods and shudders, still thankful, but understanding the weariness in her voice.  The android like being is back and adding a dark hunter green scarf to his blanket cocoon, “Your readings are far below what seems healthy, but I am unable to determine if your species runs that low as a default. Are you too cold?”,  He nods, and the leader huffs out a laugh before standing and lightly patting his shoulder.

The others seem to take it as a cue to get on with business, and talk amongst themselves again.

“This is the safest place for such a high profile prisoner…”

“ _ Safe _ ? We are in the middle of an expanding nebula! Aladi, you cannot tell me this is safe.”

“ _ Exactly _ , Khaete, it’s  _ perfect _ .”

He’s watching the one with the headwrap and the one with bright blue eye display bicker when the leader returns with a steaming wooden bowl.

“Here, this should help.” She hands it to him and helps him to remove the mask again. “It’s all we’ve got, but if you need more tell us. Kith will be monitoring your vitals-” she uses a clawed finger to point to the android dutifully typing away on a datapad, “And Te-Osh is probably going to make you something to help with those wounds on your arms and leg. It’ll sting, but what’s that compared, right?”

The food is warm.

It’s warm and heavy and he sinks into the comfort of the bickering crew.

When his bowl is empty, he shies away from the feathered ear being who insists on patching his wounds now.

“I’m Matt,” he says. And it’s the first time in a long time he’s felt like himself enough to say it. They all seem to grin and nod. ”Welcome back to the living,” Aladi says with a sharp toothed grin.  Then, the leader is sitting with him, with two more bowls and a warm, kind smile. “Olia. Welcome aboard kid.”


End file.
